


Quickened pulse

by AnonymousOtter



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claudeleth Week (Fire Emblem), F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousOtter/pseuds/AnonymousOtter
Summary: Byleth is feeling weird. Claude gets to check something that has been on his mind for a while.--A submission for Claudeleth Week 2020.Day 4: "Pining"
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72
Collections: Claudeleth Week 2020





	Quickened pulse

“I feel weird.”

Claude moves back to look at her face and his chair screeches as it scraps the wooden floor.

It’s the middle of summer, and the night is hot. As always, they reunited at dusk in Byleth’s bedroom to talk about all and nothing. They used to do it in Claude’s bedroom but Lorenz, who sleeps next door, quickly got irritated with their incessant chatting that went late into the night, not to mention their chemical experiments.

Because of the heat, Byleth got rid of her stockings and bodice weeks ago, and if he likes to keep appearances when the rest of the army is around, Claude eases himself in lighter clothes when it’s just the two of them. The door and windows are wide open and a cool breeze rushes through the room; yet Claude can still feel his shirt sticking to his back because of the sweat. It’s improper, but he rolled up his sleeves and even undid some of the buttons of his shirt. It shows more skin than what he’s used to, but he doesn’t care. Byleth doesn’t seem to mind either, although she _did_ excuse herself ten minutes ago to go only the stars know where.

“Weird,” Claude repeats now that she’s back, standing before him in the doorframe. In his hands, an old book he found in the Abyss. It’s all they’ve been talking about, lately.

Byleth nods.

“I thought I would feel better after going to the toilets … but it changed nothing.”

She pouts a little, looks slightly annoyed. The moon shines in the night sky behind her and she looks like an actual divinity.

“Err… Spare me the details, will you, Teach?” Claude says. “Maybe you just ate too much?” He goes back to his book.

“Food cannot hurt me.”

Well, she is not wrong. Claude is a big eater, probably on par with Raphael, even. But if he passed out more than once after a feast, he never saw Byleth flinch no matter how much Daphne stew and cheese gratin she engulfed.

“Do you want me to call a physician?” he asks, slightly concerned but his eyes still fixated on whatever he’s trying to read.

“No … I don’t think it’s anything physical.” She does sound a bit weird, so Claude observes her from his chair, his attention now definitely distracted.

Byleth is an anomaly. Always has been. And if she never seemed to be that curious about her condition, Claude cannot say the same. From the very first day, he’s been determined to understand what exactly is wrong with her. With time, he got some answers, which in turn also raised more questions. He has never forgotten what he read in Jeralt’s diary, years ago. His eyes wander to the book, carefully sited in Byleth’s bookcase. He closes his book and slowly rises from his chair.

“You’ve always been special, Teach, haven’t you?” he says. “Your body I mean. With your little goddess in your head and your un-beating heart. Maybe that’s the root of the issue.”

He taps nonchalantly his now empty seat.

“Do you mind…?”

Byleth obeys and sits down slowly.

“What is it, Claude?”

“Can I… Uh… Check something?”

“Is it about what you read in my father’s diary?” she asks. Obviously, she saw him eyeing the book.

“It’s been bothering me for a while,” he admits. “You know me, I only believe things I can see with my own two eyes. Or well, touch, in this case.”

“You only had to ask, you know.”

“That, I do.” He winks.

Byleth is sitting in silence, straight as an arrow with her hands placed on her knees. She looks like a good little student, Claude muses.

He remembers the words written in the diary. _There is a pulse_ , _but no heartbeat._

When he moves his hand near her throat, Byleth slightly tilts her head so he has a better access. He carefully presses his index and middle finger on her jugular. Her skin is soft.

“You are cold,” he says.

“Not really. It’s because you are hot.”

It’s true, he _does_ feel hot. He cannot remember the last time summer was this hot in Fódlan, actually. He leans a little closer to her to have a better feel and he tries to focus. It takes a few seconds, and then he feels it.

“You do have a pulse,” he says, “but it seems really quick.”

“Do you think this is why I don’t feel so good?”

“Here,” Claude says ignoring her, and he takes her hand and presses it against his own throat, then against hers, then his again. “Much quicker than mine, see?”

Byleth looks at him, perplexed. “I don’t think yours is any slower, Claude.”

He chuckles and she smiles when she feels his throat vibrating under her fingers. He lets go of her hand.

“I do feel a bit light-headed,” he admits. “Probably just the heat.”

His eyes wander down her body now, settle on her chest. As usual, she wears a generous low-cut that leaves little to the imagination. Byleth catches his gaze.

“You are still curious.”

It’s not a question; she knows him well.

“Can I…?” he asks tentatively, even if deep down, he knows she would never refuse him anything. She nods again.

One cannot act like a rascal, though. Claude von Riegan is a gentleman who likes to believe he has more manners than even the likes of Lorenz. It doesn’t matter if his intentions are pure and he just wants to feel her heartbeat—or lack of thereof—he cannot just grope her breast like that.

He clears his throat—it’s really hot tonight, he thinks—and kneels beside her. He sets his hair behind his ear, leans on the chair with his left hand and carefully places his ear against her breast. She smells good, and he imagines for a second what sort of excuses he will have to find should someone barge in and surprise them in such a compromising position. The leader of the Alliance, his nose deep inside the Archbishop-to-be’s cleavage, his cheek rested against her smooth, generous, voluptuous… He shuts his eyes. There are more pressing matters.

He listens carefully and yes, he knew exactly what to expect, but the uncanny silence still blows the air out of his lungs. It’s weird, so weird. And now it is like _he_ feels weird. He wonders briefly if he caught some virus as well.

“There’s nothing,” he murmurs, cheek still pressed against her chest.

Byleth giggles.

“I’m not sure this is really laughing matters, my friend,” Claude continues, pressing his face harder into her, looking for something he knows he will not find, but still trying his best anyway.

She laughs again.

“It’s not that,” she says between two laughers, “your sideburns tickle me!”

Now, Claude is the one who’s laughing, provoking even more giggles from Byleth.

“Oho… Reaaallyyyy…?” he continues, making sure each syllable is accentuated enough his jaw will tickle her even more.

“That’s enough,” she puffs. She pushes him away gently, hands on his shoulders. “Do you really think this has anything to do with how I feel, or was that all just a scheme to examine me, Claude?”

Claude sits down on the floor and flashes a cocky smile.

“Both, if I’m honest with you. Do you still feel weird?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You did nothing.” She pauses. “Actually, I think I feel worse.”

Suddenly, she points a finger at his face. “And you are super red Claude. I’m pretty sure you are sick as well now. Maybe I contaminated you.”

He looks at her with wide eyes. It’s true, he feels dizzy. He stands up and lets out a grunt in the effort. _It’s really hot_.

“Nothing sleep won’t fix for both of us,” he finally says. “Let’s call it a night.”

“Wait, Claude!” Byleth almost shouts from her chair when she realises he’s going to leave for good.

To most people, Byleth would always look stoic, even in this moment. Claude, however, knows how to read her. Sometimes it’s really more of wild guess, sure, but in this moment, he can clearly tell she’s distressed.

“Teach, are you worried?”

“…

“Maybe.”

“You don’t have to hold back with me.” He smiles softly. “We are both adults, aren’t we?”

She nods slowly, almost ashamed of her behaviour. Claude lets out a sigh and ruffles his hair. It’s a bit damp with sweat.

“How about this?” he says after a while. “I’ll go to my room find some remedy for you. And when I’m back, I won’t leave until you feel better. Deal?”

A small smile appears on her face, and Claude’s heart flutters at the sight.

“Deal.”

He doesn’t exactly run to the dormitories, but his pace is far from slow. When he opens the door and enters his room, it’s so hot inside he realises that even without taking Lorenz’s complaints into account, choosing Byleth’s place as the headquarters for their little brainstorming sessions was the right call. There are books and scrolls on his desktop, on his bed, on the floor—everywhere, but he still finds what he was looking for quickly. He takes a small vial and goes back downstairs swiftly, careful not to wake up anyone.

Part of him had hoped going outside would clear his mind, but the temperature difference is minimal and the wind is hot as well. He feels dizzy when he reaches Byleth’s open bedroom; dizzier even when he crosses the doorframe and his eyes sets on her.

She left the chair when he was away. She is now lying down on her bed—logical enough. What isn’t logical, nor normal, nor even explainable, is what she’s doing. Her eyes are closed and she’s holding something in her small hands, a piece of white fabric she presses to her nose and that she seems to be smelling. It’s dark now, but Claude has no issues recognising the object. It’s his cravat. He took it off hours earlier and left it on her bed. He doesn’t question why she’s doing this, he simply observes in silence. As if he were under a spell, he cannot take his eyes out of her. He is fascinated, embarrassed, and maybe something else less honourable. When Byleth notices him, she props herself on her elbows, unabashed.

“Claude,” she says. “I think I’m onto something.”

“Are you?” His voice sounds strange, he notices. Stars, maybe he _is_ getting sick, after all.

Byleth sits down, her legs swinging over the edge of her bed. She pats the mattress beside her. Claude catches her hint and sits down with her.

“When you left, I lied down for a bit and I found this.” She puts the cravat on his lap. “It’s yours.”

“It is. But I’m not sure I’m following you. What does it have to do with your illness?”

“See, when I smell it… I feel weirder.”

“Ah.” A pause. “Tell me, Teach, when exactly did you start feeling ‘weird’ anyway?”

She looks at him with piercing eyes, and he knows this look well. It’s the one she always makes when she’s trying to decipher what he’s saying. The other thing he takes good notice of, is how close they are to each other now, and how her gaze seems to linger on his chest. His heartbeat is getting hard to ignore as well.

“I was waiting for you right here,” she says, “and I was just fine.

“Then you opened my door, and it began.”

“But what does it feel like, exactly?”

“You know I’m not good with that.” She pouts.

“Please, try to explain it to me. I can help. I swear.”

“It’s like… A void? Or maybe a knot.” She points at her abdomen. “Right there, inside my guts.”

“Does it hurt?”

She shakes her head.

“No, it’s just weird. I think it’s when you are near. Right now, for example… The feeling is strong.” She looks surprised at her own words all of a sudden.

“Wait? Was it because of you, Claude? Did you poison me?”

“Eh!”

“Not on purpose I mean,” she adds when she sees his disappointed face.

Claude chuckles. “I don’t think so,” he says, “I haven’t ‘cooked’ in a while.”

It’s only fair that she would believe that. The truth is, this happened in the past. He had powder left on his gloves and he accidentally poisoned poor Lorenz when they were in cleaning duty together.

“What did you retrieve from your room, then?”

Claude searches his pocket and shows her the vial.

“It’s to relieve tension. It will help you sleep.” He puts it in her hand and closes her small fingers around it. He blinks once, twice, eyes fixed on his hand around hers. He never noticed before how small she is.

“Will I get better if I drink this?” she asks, examining the bottle.

He shrugs.

“Who knows, it never really worked on me, but at the very least it shouldn’t harm you.”

She opens the vial and tilts her head so she can drink the content up to the last drop. When she does so, Claude’s eyes linger a bit too long on her lips, her slightly flushed cheeks, the small strands of hair sticking to her forehead from the heat. He hopes she doesn’t have a fever. He hopes _he_ doesn’t. Maybe he should have asked her to leave some for him, because he also definitely feels weirder by the minute.

Byleth gives him back the now empty vial and lies down again, her legs rested on his lap.

He looks at her. Her eyes are shut and her face is hidden behind one arm. Her chest rises and collapses rapidly, betraying her quickened pulse. If she had a heartbeat, Claude reckons, then surely it would be thundering right now. For now, though, his own heart is beating enough for two. One of her bare feet touches his stomach by accident; then a second time, clearly on purpose.

“Take off your shirt.”

He turns his head to look at her face.

“Tea—Teach!”

She hasn’t moved at all; her eyes are still shut.

“It’s damp with sweat,” she continues, still kicking his side gently with the tip of her foot. “You will be sick for good if you don’t. Listen to your elders, for once.”

Now, this is embarrassing. Improper. Dangerous, even. And yet, Claude’s fingers seem to move on their own accord, starting to undo his buttons slowly as he watches her lying down all flushed. When the last button comes undone after what feels like an eternity and his chest lays bare in front of her, he pauses to look at her. Byleth doesn’t really move anymore. The room is silent save for the sound of her breathing, seemingly calmer than before. The candles are almost all extinguished but the light they are casting is enough to see she’s smiling a little. She looks at peace. 

She is the Ashen Demon, the daughter of Jeralt the Blade Breaker. Yet she trusts Claude enough to let him stay on her bed half-naked when it’s just the two of them. And she feels weird, when he’s around. Claude lets out a sigh, a shiver running through him despite the impossibly high temperature. He finally gets it.

Slowly, he moves her legs away from his lap and rests them gently on the bed. He stands up and comes closer to her face.

“Do you feel better, Teach?” he whispers.

“Mmmh…”

She’s almost asleep. Maybe he underestimated the potency of his potion, but at least she has calmed down.

“I think I should let you rest, now.”

“Claude,” she murmurs. “I don’t want to be a burden…”

He smiles at her softly, even if he knows she cannot see it with her eyes closed.

“You’ll be just fine Byleth,” he says as he leans down to brush her forehead with his lips. She is still flushed, but her skin is cool.

He leaves the room without making a sound, stands in the doorframe for a few more seconds to watch her sleeping form one last time. Outside, the cicadas are still singing into the night but the air seems cooler. As he makes his way to his bedroom, Claude thinks once again about what she asked him.

_Was it because of you?_

Tomorrow, he will have to tell her to read Jeralt’s diary again. Not the part about her weird body, but the one that will make her connect the dots and understand that yes, she will be fine. And if the strange knot in his own guts is to be trusted, then everything will definitely be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Byleth "is it love or just constipation" Eisner


End file.
